Positive
by The 1000th Kiss
Summary: A story about how Collins got HIV/AIDS. Collins/OC and eventual Collins/Angel. Pre and during RENT. Drama/Romance
1. The Cut

**New story! Yay! :D I got this idea by watching videos from 413 Hope Street (Jesse was in it) online. I felt maybe it could make a nice fic so . . . here it is.  
**

**I don't own RENT, 413 Hope Street, or the character names in Restaurant. Sad, but true. :(  
**

Tom Collins (known as Collins) practically ran eight blocks from the subway station to get to work. He'd just gotten out of school and didn't want to be late. He was _never _late. After power walking for about three and a half blocks, the Moondance Diner came into view. He hurried to the diner, burst in the door, ran to the kitchen, pulled his time card out of his pocket, and clocked in.

"Mr. Thomas Collins is on time as usual," Quincy, a cook who worked at the diner, said. He, the rest of the cooks, the waiters, and waitresses applauded as Collins rolled his eyes.

"I don't see how you do it, Collins," Chris, a waiter and Collins' friend, said, tossing an apron at him. "I mean, you go to school then you come straight here and get more work done than I do." Collins was busy putting on his apron while Chris talked. "And I'm usually here _before _you."

"I believe in hard work," Collins replied, picking up his pad and pencil. "Which is somethin' you don't have _any _personal knowledge of, lazy ass." Collins put the pencil behind his ear, took his backpack off, and placed it on the floor.

"You made it just in time for the Wednesday lunch rush, Collins," Quincy said. "Which means your boy toy won't get to see you at the usual time tonight." Everyone, save Collins, laughed.

"Fuck you, Quincy," Collins replied, trying to hold in his laughter. Quincy put his arm around Collins' shoulders.

"I only tease cause I love ya," he replied. "So how _is _little Toby?"

"He's not little," Collins said. "He's only one year younger than me."

"What made you think I was talkin' about his _age_?" Quincy smirked as Collins pushed his arm off of him. "I'm kidding, damn. Why are you so sensitive?"

"That's my boyfriend you're talkin' about," Collins said. "And, for your information, he has a _very_ big-"

"Keep that to yourself," Chris interrupted. A man in khaki pants, a long-sleeved, buttoned shirt, and a tie walked into the kitchen.

"Boss man's in the area," Quincy announced. He saluted the man, causing everyone to laugh.

"At ease, Quincy," the man said. He turned to Collins. "Where is your friend, Tom?"

"Um . . . I have no idea actually, Mr. Watson," Collins replied. As if on cue, Roger Davis, Collins' friend, walked into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he saw Mr. Watson.

"Late again," Quincy said. "For the fourth time this week. That ain't good, Roger." Mr. Watson turned toward Roger and scowled.

"Look, before you start yelling, let me explain," Roger told Mr. Watson. It was silent for a moment. "On second thought, I really don't have anything to say. Just start yelling."

"I'm not going to yell at you," Mr. Watson said, making Roger smile. "I _am_, however, going to dock your paycheck." Roger's smile faded. "We can't afford late employees, Roger. Especially on Wednesdays." Mr. Watson looked at the rest of his employees. "Carry on." He then left the room.

"Rog, I thought you said you were gonna cut last period so you'd be on time today," Collins said, giving Roger an apron.

"You should know me better than that, Collins," Roger replied, putting the apron on. "I cut last period because I _hate _history class."

"If you're late again, you can kiss your job goodbye, Roger," Quincy pointed out.

"He's right, man," Chris agreed. "You should try to be more like Collins."

"Nobody asked you guys!" Roger retorted.

"You three can fight later," Collins said as he gave Roger a pad and a pencil. "Right now, we have work to do." He, Roger, and the rest of the waiters and waitresses grabbed several menus, left the kitchen, and headed to their assigned tables. Collins and Roger's tables were right next to each others.

"Check out the guy sitting at your table," Roger whispered to Collins. The person was very pale and looked about Roger and Collins' age. A backpack was sitting next to him. "Dude, I think that's Todd." Todd was a boy that went to their school.

"You're right," Collins whispered. "What the hell happened to him?" He walked up to Todd and forced a smile. "Hey there, Todd. Welcome to the Moondance Diner. I'll be your server for today. Can I start you off with a drink?"

"I'll just take a lemonade," Todd said with no emotion whatsoever. Collins scribbled the word 'lemonade' onto his pad and gave Todd a menu.

"I'll be right back with your lemonade," he said. He went to several different tables and repeated what he'd said to Todd before returning to the kitchen. "I got drinks here." He gave the list of drinks to Quincy.

"Great," Quincy replied, starting to fill glasses with the drinks on the piece of paper. Once he was done, he put them all on a tray. Collins picked the tray up left the kitchen again, and delivered the drinks while taking orders, purposely going to Todd last.

"Have you decided what you'd like?" he asked the pale teenager.

"Just give me the daily soup," Todd replied.

"Cup or bowl?" Todd looked up at Collins and arched an eyebrow. "_Cup _or _bowl_?"

"Bowl." Collins scribbled down his order and headed for the kitchen again as Todd took a pair of scissors out of his backpack.

"He ordered the daily soup?" Roger asked Collins once he was back in the kitchen waiting for the orders to be filled.

"Yeah," Collins replied. "I think there's somethin' wrong with him. He's been in here before and he always orders the same thing."

"Maybe he wants to switch it up a little," Quincy said, putting soup into a bowl and putting the bowl onto a tray. "You should take his food first and ask him about it."

"I'm coming with you," Roger said as Collins picked up the tray and went back to the dining area. When he and Collins got to Todd's table, he wasn't there. Collins sat the tray on the table and tapped a random customer on the shoulder.

"Did you see where the guy that was sitting here went?" he asked.

"I think he went to the restroom," the customer said. Roger and Collins both headed to the men's restroom and found Todd staring at himself in the mirror, clutching his scissors.

"Todd, what's goin' on?" Collins asked, his eyes not leaving the scissors. Todd stared at him.

"The fucking human immunodeficiency virus is what's going on," he replied. "I'm not gonna live with this shit."

"There are places you could go to get help coping with having it," Roger said.

"Roger and I will even take you there," Collins added. Roger gave Collins a look.

"I've already made up my mind," Todd said.

"Look, we get how you feel, but-"

"Oh really?" Todd interrupted. "What stage are _you _in?" Both Roger and Collins were silent. "I guess you don't 'get how I feel,' do you?" Before another word could be said, Todd stabbed himself in the stomach with the scissors. Collins ran to Todd and struggled to take the scissors away from him, not noticing that the scissors had cut his arm during said struggle. Quincy entered the restroom as Collins, Todd, and the bloody scissors fell to the floor.

"Why're you guys in-" he stopped himself in mid-sentence and his eyes widened. "Holy shit!"

"Call 9-1-1!" Collins exclaimed, keeping his hand over Todd's wound while trying to calm him down.

* * *

"What exactly happened here?" a paramedic asked Collins, Roger, and Quincy. Collins, his shirt stained with blood, watched as Todd was placed on a stretcher and put into an ambulance.

"He tried to kill himself with a pair of scissors," Roger answered. All of the customers were staring out the windows of the diner at what was happening. Mr. Watson walked over to Collins, who was staring at the ambulance as it pulled off.

"Are you going to be alright, Tom?" he asked. Collins nodded slightly.

"Yeah . . . I'll be fine," he replied.

"Are you sure? You look a little dazed."

"It's just . . . he used to be so happy."

"People change, Tom." Collins was silent for a moment. "You should go wash that blood off your shirt." Collins looked down at his shirt and nodded. He then went back into the diner and into the restroom before taking his shirt off and letting water run into one of the sinks. As he put his shirt under the running water, Roger came into the restroom carrying a mop.

"What are you doing in here?" Collins asked him.

"Watson's making me clean up the blood in here," Roger replied. "I hate that old bastard." Collins chuckled. "It's not funny!" Roger stared at Collins for a while. "I don't think that blood's gonna come out." Collins sighed.

"I think you're right," he said, turning the water off. "Hand me a paper towel, will you?" Roger did as Collins asked and, as Collins reached for it, noticed that there was a cut on his forearm.

"Collins, where'd that come from?" he asked, staring at the cut.

"Where'd what come from?" Collins replied, drying his hands.

"That cut on your arm." Collins looked at his arm and saw exactly what Roger was talking about.

"I don't know," he answered, putting the now wet paper towel over it. "It wasn't there before I got-" Collins stopped talking before he could finish his sentence and froze. "Oh. My. God." He turned the water back on, put his forearm under it, and scrubbed the cut with the paper towel. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"What's wrong?" Roger asked. Collins scrubbed harder. "Collins, what's the matter with you? You're gonna take your skin off." Collins dropped the paper towel in the sink and turned to his friend.

"I think I got this cut from the scissors Todd's blood was on," he said, his eyes wide. "Todd . . . has HIV." Roger was speechless and could do nothing but watch as his friend continued to scrub his arm.

**How was that for a first chapter?**

**Review please.**


	2. What to Do?

**Next one. Enjoy it.**

******I don't own RENT, 413 Hope Street, or the character names in Restaurant. Sad, but true. :(**

Collins stared at the band-aid on his arm as his math teacher, Mr. Brown, lectured the class about not knowing the answer to the problem that was on the board. He couldn't think of anything except what happed at the diner and the cut on his arm was a constant reminder.

_I tried to save someone's life and now I'm gonna die_, he thought.

"Tom, tell me you know the answer to the equation," Mr. Brown said, snapping Collins out of his thoughts. Collins stared at the equation on the board for about three minutes.

"I don't know," he said. He was quite shocked he said those words. He was usually able to do equations in his head with ease.

"Why don't you take a stab at it?" Mr. Brown asked. All eyes were now on Collins as he stared at the board again.

_I know it's a positive number_, he thought. _Positive . . . like in HIV positive._

"Three?" he guessed. The rest of the class looked to Mr. Brown, who shook his head.

"That's incorrect, Tom," he said. "The answer is two." Collins looked at his bandaged cut as the bell rang for lunch. "Don't forget about your homework, assignment. Class dismissed except for you, Tom. I'd like to speak with you." Once everyone else was gone, Mr. Brown approached Collins' desk. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Collins replied.

"You've never gotten a question wrong in my class. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm just . . . havin' a bad day."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really. I should get going." Collins gathered his things and stood up.

"Well, if you need someone to talk to, don't be afraid to stop by," Mr. Brown said.

"Thanks, but you wouldn't understand," Collins replied quickly. Before Mr. Brown could respond, Collins walked out of the classroom and headed for the cafeteria.

**

* * *

**

"Collins?" Roger said, waving his hand in front of his friend's face as he sat down with his lunch tray. "Are you okay?"

"No," Collins told him. "I can't keep saying 'I'm fine' to everybody. I'm _not _fine, I'm a wreck. I can't concentrate on anything and it's all because of this fucking cut!"

"Chill. You can just go get an HIV test. No big deal."

"'No big deal?' Roger, this is a _huge _deal!" Collins lowered his voice. "I could get AIDS and die."

"Todd has HIV, Collins, not AIDS."

"But HIV is the virus that causes AIDS."

"Well, whether you have it or not, I'll be there for you. And I'm sure Toby will too. Speaking of him, what'd he say when you told him what happened?" Collins looked down at his lunch tray. "Hello?"

"Nothing," Collins said quietly.

"You're kidding, right?" Collins shook his head. "Doesn't he care at all?"

"It's not that he doesn't care. It's . . . I . . . I didn't tell him."

"Why the hell not?"

"I couldn't do it."

"He deserves to know, Collins. You really need to tell him."

"How am I supposed to tell my boyfriend that I could possibly have a virus that has no cure?"

"Write it down, draw pictures, do something to get the message to him. He needs to know. And if all else fails, blurt it out."

"Roger, it ain't that simple."

"It may not be, but you're making it harder than it has to be." Collins glared at Roger.

"How the fuck can you say I'm making it harder than it has to be when you don't know how hard it actually is?" he asked angrily.

"Well, if I were you, I'd-" Roger started.

"If you were me, you'd do what, Roger?" Collins interrupted, raising his voice. "What the fuck would you do if you were me!?" A few people looked at him.

"Collins, calm down," Roger said just as Mr. Brown walked into the cafeteria.

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down, Roger! You're not the one who's goin' through hell with a best friend that's telling you having an incurable disease is 'no big deal!'" Collins suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you positive you don't need to talk to someone?" he heard Mr. Brown's voice ask. He shrugged his hand off, stood up, and started to walk away. Mr. Brown caught him by his arm.

"Get off me," Collins demanded.

"Tom, if you need help, let me-" Mr. Brown started.

"Leave me alone," Collins interrupted, snatching his arm away from Mr. Brown and hurrying from the cafeteria. Several teachers asked him where he thought he was going and tried to stop him from going there, but he simply pushed them away, left the school, and headed in the direction of Central Park.

_This is insane_, he thought. _I need to clear my head . . . think about what I should do._

He thought about the possibility of having HIV a bit more as he walked. Tears stung his eyes as he thought about what his family, friends, and his boyfriend would go through if he died.

_I __have__ to know_, he thought as he stopped walking. He turned around and started walking again, this time in the direction of a free clinic.

**Hope you liked it.**

**Review please.**


	3. Tested

**Here is the next chapter. I hope people are enjoying this story. I know I have others that need updates, and I will get to those in due time. Okay? Okay.**

**I don't own RENT, 413 Hope Street, or the character names in Restaurant. Sad, but true. :(**

Collins sat in the waiting room of the clinic, looking at the form he was given and told to fill out by a receptionist wearing bright red lipstick. The form had questions that only required basic answers, but Collins was too distracted by his problem to fill the blanks in without over thinking what the form asked. He stared at the space where the form wanted his name.

_Easy enough, _he thought. _Tom Collins. Wait . . . do they want my __full__ first name? Yeah, they probably do._

He neatly wrote 'Thomas Collins' in the space next to the word 'Name' and moved on to the space that his age was supposed to go on. He wrote the number 18 on the line and moved on. Twenty minutes later, the form was completely filled out. Collins stood up and walked back to the receptionist's desk.

"All done, hun?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Collins replied. "Now what do I do?" The receptionist smiled at him.

"First timer, huh?" she asked. Collins looked at his shoes.

"Yeah," he replied, embarrassed.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about, baby doll. You sit and wait for the doctor to call you in like everyone else." Collins nodded and returned to his seat. Five minutes after he'd been waiting, a girl wearing a skin-tight, black dress with matching heels and jet black, curly hair walked across the room and sat in the empty chair next to him.

"Hey," she said.

"Um . . . hi," Collins replied, his attention on his hands.

"I've been watching you since you got here and you look really nervous."

"I am really nervous." Collins looked from his hands to the girl. "You've been watching me?"

"Yeah. I watch all the really hot guys in a room, which is part of the reason why I'm in here. Does it creep you out or something?"

"It wouldn't if I knew who you were."

"My name's Shelly. What's yours?"

"It's Collins."

"Nice name. So, Collins, what're you in for?"

"You make this place sound like prison."

"To some people, it is. So, what brought you here?"

"I'm . . . getting a test."

"Which one?" Collins' eyes widened.

"There's more than one?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," Shelly replied. "After all, there's more than one disease out there. Wait . . . you've never been to a clinic before, have you?"

"No."

"So that's why you're nervous." Collins nodded and Shelly put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Collins. It'll be alright." Collins sighed.

"I wish I could believe that," he said. "If my test results are positive, my life is over . . . in more ways than one."

"HIV test, huh?" Colllins nodded sadly. "You think your results are gonna be positive no matter what, don't you?" Collins nodded again. "That's not healthy, you know. Especially if the results actually are positive. You'll end up being even more depressed than you are now."

"You know what, you're not helping me at all," Collins said.

"The facts usually don't help," Shelly replied as a doctor appeared in the room.

"Thomas Collins?" he said. Collins flinched like he'd been hit by something.

"That you?" Shelly asked him. He nodded, stood up, and began following the doctor out of the room as Shelly yelled, "Good luck!"

**

* * *

**

"So, you're here for an HIV test, huh?" the doctor asked. Collins, who was sitting in a chair watching as the doctor washed his hands, nodded. "Is this a precautionary test or do you think you've contracted the virus?"

"I . . . think I have it," Collins replied sadly as the doctor dried his hands.

"Have you been taking any drugs?" the doctor continued. "Sharing needles?"

"No," Collins told him. "I think shooting up is stupid."

"Hmm . . . have you had unprotected sex with someone who was infected?"

"I've never had unprotected sex. My boyfriend and I always use a condom."

"What about your boyfriends before this one?"

"He's the only one I've ever had. We're faithful to each other."

"What about his past boyfriends?"

"He's only had one and they didn't have sex. They weren't together that long."

"Did you have a recent blood transfusion?"

"Not medically, but . . . there was a transfusion of blood."

"Care to elaborate?" Collins shifted uncomfortably in the chair he was sitting in.

"Well . . . I work at the Moondance Diner and yesterday this guy that goes to my school was there," he started. "He tried to kill himself with a pair of scissors in the restroom . . . 'cause he has HIV." He paused.

"Go on," the doctor pressed.

"I tried to stop him and I got cut with the scissors his blood was on." He stopped talking and looked up at the doctor, who was staring at him, tapping his chin with his index finger.

"It's a possibility that the virus could've been destroyed once the air hit it," he replied. "But I guess-"

"Better safe than sorry," Collins interrupted. The doctor somewhat smiled.

"Exactly what I was going to say," he said.

**

* * *

**

Collins was thirty minutes late for work. He'd decided to stay in the small one bedroom apartment he shared with his boyfriend, Toby, for a while since he could be alone and ended up staying a bit too long. A silence filled the room as he walked into the kitchen of the Moondance Diner to clock in. Quincy was the first to speak.

"Roger Davis is on time and Thomas Collins is late?" he commented. "Well, this raises some eyebrows." A few people sniggered at his comment. Collins didn't respond or make eye contact with anyone in the room. He just stared at the floor.

"I'm really not in the mood, Quincy," he said, putting an apron on. Everyone looked around at each other in confusion. They'd never seen Collins so unhappy before. Quincy walked closer to him.

"Late for work _and _not laughin' at my jokes?" he said. "What's goin' on with you?" Collins was silent as Mr. Watson entered the kitchen. Everyone, save Collins, immediately started making themselves look busy.

"Tom . . . you're late," Mr. Watson said in shock.

"I know," Collins replied quietly. He was still looking at the floor.

"We can't afford late employees. We're not that busy today, but still."

"I know."

"I just can't believe you're late. I expect this from Roger, but you're _never_-"

"I know I'm late!" Collins snapped. "I'm sorry! I had to do something important! I _do _have a life outside this place, you know! Go ahead and dock my paycheck if you have to, but don't dwell on the fact that I was late _this one time!_ God!It was only a matter of time before I came in late and you know it! I'm only human!" Mr. Watson started to say something more, but quickly decided against it and left the kitchen. Roger then entered the kitchen holding an empty tray.

"Collins?" he said. "You're-"

"Uh, Roger?" Quincy interrupted. "Ix-nay on the ate-lay."

"Well . . . I covered your tables for you." Roger put the tray down on a counter. He noticed his friend looked a bit sad. "Is everything okay, Collins?"

"Yeah." Roger opened his mouth to respond as Mr. Watson came back into the room with a mop in his hand. He scanned his employees' faces for a moment.

"Roger, I need you to clean up the mess somebody made next to one of your tables," he said, thrusting the mop into Roger's hand.

"Oh, come on!" Roger complained.

"Get to it." Mr. Watson left the room with Roger right behind him. Collins was still standing in one spot, staring at the floor. Quincy walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You look like you need somebody to talk to," he said. "And since I'm not doin' nothin' right now, I can talk to you."

"I don't need to talk," Collins told him.

"Like hell you don't. I can tell when there's somethin' wrong with somebody. Now, what's goin' on?" Collins was silent. "Roger told me about your cut from yesterday. Is that what's botherin' you?" Collins remained silent, but looked up at Quincy. "Look, you just need to calm down, okay? I know you're goin' through a rough time right now, but-"

"How the fuck do you know what I'm goin' through?" Collins interrupted. "You have _no idea _what it's like to feel so . . . helpless! If my test results come back positive, I'm done! I'm dead! Trust me. You have no fucking clue how it feels to know that you could have a fatal disease with no cure!" Quincy was quiet as his pager went off. He looked at it quickly and put it back in his pocket. "Who the hell keeps paging you at work every day?"

"Nobody," Quincy replied, standing up. "It's just a reminder I set for myself." He grabbed a glass and filled it with water at the sink.

"What are you reminding yourself about?"

"I have to remind myself to take my AZT." Collins froze as Quincy took a bottle of pills out of his pocket. He watched him take his medicine.

"Your . . . AZT?" he said.

"Yeah," Quincy replied. "I'm HIV positive."

**Boy, that was a long chapter! I think I'm pleased with how it turned out.**

**Review please.**


	4. Inner Turmoil

**Okay, I'm gonna try this new thing, where I update stories of mine that are seemingly abandoned. Good idea? I think so. Here we go.**

**I don't own RENT, 413 Hope Street, or the character names in Restaurant. Sad, but true. :(**

Collins couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Quincy for the rest of his shift. He was mentally kicking himself in the head for what he had said. He felt as though he would hate himself for the rest of his life. Knowing that he had undoubtedly hurt one of his closest friends was killing him. He needed to apologize. And at closing time, he did just that.

"Hey, Quincy?" he said, staring at the tiling on the kitchen floor. Quincy stopped mopping and turned to Collins. "I'm . . . _really, really _sorry. I . . . I didn't know you were-"

"You don't have to apologize to me, Collins," Quincy interrupted, leaning the mop on a counter. "I know you didn't know. You're just scared and frustrated right now. Waitin' for the results of an HIV test is somethin' that'll make you say or do anything. It's enough to drive you crazy."

"Is that how it was for you?"

"Oh yeah. I was _way _worse than you. I yelled at my own mama. And the day I did that was the day I found out some vital information."

"What'd you find out?"

"That my mama wasn't lyin' when she said if I make her mad, she won't hesitate to bend me over her knee and give me a good old fashioned ass whoopin' no matter how old I get." Collins couldn't help but chuckle. Hey, you laugh, but it's true."

"I'm still _really_ sorry." Quincy smiled at Collins and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine, Collins. And if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here for you." Quincy grabbed the mop. "Now, you get home to Toby. It's late and you've told us all how much he worries about you."

Collins chuckled as he hung up his apron and pulled on his jacket. As he walked home, he thought of possible ways to break the news to Toby that he was at risk of having HIV. The suggestions Roger had given about getting the message across ran through Collins' mind, mostly writing it down and blurting it out, but none of them seemed like appropriate ways to tell someone as sensitive as Toby about a subject that could very well mean death.

When he made it to the building he lived in, he walked inside as slowly as he possibly could. There were a few people standing next to the elevator, talking and smoking. Collins decided to climb the four flights of stairs to his apartment so he didn't disturb their conversation. As he walked, he thought more about possible ways he could get the truth out to Toby. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he had to tell him before it was too late.

When he finally reached his apartment, he took a deep breath before pulling his key out of his pocket and unlocking the door. He was greeted with a kiss upon entering the apartment.

"Hey, you," Toby said, smiling.

Collins and Toby met one year before they moved in together and had been dating for two. A combination of school and home problems caused Toby to drop out of school after he and Collins had been together for six months. The two had fallen deeply in love by then.

"How was your day?" Toby asked. Collins' mind went to his trip to the clinic.

"You know, the usual," he replied. He put his backpack down beside the door as Toby unzipped his jacket and pushed it off of his shoulders. As he took the jacket completely off, he noticed Collins didn't seem as happy to see him as he usually did.

"Is everything okay, Collins?" he asked. Collins saw the worried expression on his boyfriend's face and forced himself to smile.

"Yeah, everything's cool. It's just been a long day." Toby pulled Collins into a kiss.

"I know what you can do to unwind."

"And what's that?"

"Me." Toby pulled Collins into another kiss, this one deeper than the last. Collins' heart skipped a beat and his mind started to race. Until he knew the results of his HIV test, he didn't feel comfortable having sex with Toby—even though they would be using a condom. He gently broke the kiss.

"I'm not really in the mood tonight," he said. Toby frowned at him.

"You weren't in the mood last night either. Are you positive you're okay?"

The word positive echoed in Collins' mind. He thought about telling Toby what had happened at the Moondance Diner right then and there, but it wasn't something he could just talk about like it was a normal happening. It would take time. Collins just wasn't sure how much time.

"I'm fine," he told Toby.

He then walked past him and headed to their bedroom. After shedding some of his clothes, Collins lied down on the bed and pulled the blankets over him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to relax. He had already predicted that he wouldn't be getting much sleep. He suddenly felt Toby's arms snake around him. Toby soon began pressing soft kisses to Collins' neck.

"I'm not in the mood," Collins stated.

"Come on," Toby pleaded.

"No."

"How about a quickie?" Toby slid his hands lower on Collins' body. Collins sat up and pushed his boyfriend away from him.

"Will you just stop it?!" he snapped. "I said I'm not in the mood!"

Toby's eyes widened and he moved away from Collins. He had seen Collins angry before, but he'd never seen him angry enough to yell at him. Collins noticed the somewhat frightened look on Toby's face and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just tired and _really _stressed out."

"Well, it _is _your senior year," Toby replied. "This is the year when things get stressful."

Collins simply nodded before kissing Toby's forehead. The two boys then lied down and got into their favorite cuddling position. It wasn't long before Toby fell asleep in Collins' arms. Collins, on the other hand, remained awake for over half the night. He eventually fell asleep three hours before he had to wake up for school, all the while dreaming of the conversation he would soon have to have with Toby.

* * *

Sitting in the cafeteria waiting for Roger, Collins poked at his lunch. He didn't have much of an appetite, but he needed to be focused on something other than his health (and getting lunch every day was something he'd become accustomed to). No matter where he was he felt that everyone who looked at him could see inside of his mind. He had thought about staying home, but he knew Toby would do nothing but try to get him into bed. And then he would be forced to talk about the incident at the diner. The whole ordeal was taking more of a toll on his life than he had originally thought possible.

"Hey, man," Roger greeted, snapping Collins out of his thoughts. He looked to his friend as he sat down on the other side of the table. A pale boy with blonde hair and a girl with long, curly, dark brown hair sat next to Roger. The girl smiled widely at Collins.

"Hey, Rog," Collins replied.

"Collins, this is Mark Cohen and Maureen Johnson," Roger said. "They're gonna let me move in with them because I'm sick of living at home with my parents."

"Nice to meet you both."

"Nice to meet you, too, Collins," Maureen said, her smile growing wider.

"Maureen, _please _don't start," Mark pleaded. "You _just _met the guy."

"I'm just being friendly, Marky. Don't worry." Maureen kissed Mark on the cheek before winking at Collins.

"So, did you talk with Toby yet?" Roger asked his friend. Collins shook his head. "Why not?"

"It's not exactly the easiest thing to talk about, Roger," Collins replied. "And I'd rather not discuss this in front of two people I just met."

"Just answer this: when are you gonna talk to him?"

Collins thought for a moment. He needed to tell Toby what was going on, but he didn't want to scare him. He was already worried enough about Collins being stressed out about school, or so he'd thought. After poking at his food for a little while longer, Collins came up with an answer.

"I'll talk to him once I get my results," he declared. "That way, I'll know exactly what I need to say."

"When you _do _get your results, let me know," Roger told him, beginning to eat his lunch. "I wanna be there for you no matter what they say."

Collins smiled and nodded.

"Thanks, Roger," he said.

**Review please.**


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